Chapter 18: Reforging the Flesh

I stared at my reflection in the ship's viewport, the distant stars shimmering behind me, indifferent to the machinations of the beings who drifted through them. My face, once familiar and soft, now felt alien. Sure, I'd absorbed the collective intelligence of an entire species and upgraded the technology I held, but my body? It was still weak. Slow. Limited. Mortal.

I pressed my hand against the cold glass, feeling the warmth of my flesh against the unyielding void beyond. It wasn't enough. I had outgrown the body I was born into. To truly wield the power I now understood, I needed a new vessel, one that could match my mind's limitless potential.

The neurons in my brain fired faster than ever, patterns of thought moving in directions I hadn't even dreamed of before. Ideas were forming, calculations running through my enhanced mind like electricity through a circuit board. The answer was obvious: my body was the weak link. If I wanted to stand above even the smartest Ricks, I would have to transcend the limitations of mere human biology.

But I couldn't just augment myself with crude cybernetics or the half-measures other species employed. No, I needed something better, near-perfection. I needed to reconstruct myself into the pinnacle of what it meant to be human, without the frailties that bound me to mortality. Strength. Intelligence. Durability. Lifespan. A flawless version of humanity, a purer form, like a Viltrumite, but without the downsides.

I began sketching out the blueprint in my mind: a massive laboratory, hidden within the folds of a forgotten dimension, somewhere even the Citadel wouldn't dare to tread. A place where I could work undisturbed, where I could imprison those I needed to study. And I knew exactly where to start.

It was a twisted irony. The Ricks always saw themselves as the apex of intelligence, the rulers of the multiverse. But now, they would become my test subjects. Their brains would be the key to pushing my own to even greater heights. The Mortys, too. Some of them, though rare, were just as brilliant, hidden away as pawns in Rick's grand chess game. I could use them, learn from them.

The plan unfolded in my mind like a well-crafted novel. First, I would need to locate a few specific targets, Ricks with unique neural signatures, those who had evolved their intelligence beyond the baseline genius most Ricks took for granted. Smart Mortys were harder to track, but I'd already begun identifying a few from the Citadel's records, ones who showed promise in areas even Ricks hadn't fully explored.

But it wouldn't just be about taking their brains and studying them. I needed them alive. I needed them intact.

For that, I'd need the lab.

I pulled up my ship's data banks, reviewing potential locations. I needed a dimension on the outer edges of the multiverse, a place not heavily trafficked, where I could construct my facility without raising suspicion. The perfect spot finally came into view: Dimension QZ-819. A barren wasteland with low life forms, forgotten by the Citadel but rich in resources. It was ideal.

The lab would be massive, outfitted with the best technology I had at my disposal. Holding cells reinforced with multidimensional tethers to prevent escape. Neural isolation fields to stop the Ricks from attempting any form of mental defense or tech-based escape. Everything needed to be perfect.

....

I'd need more than just traps to keep them contained. These were Ricks, after all, and they had a knack for wriggling out of even the tightest binds. I began drawing up designs for new weaponry, precision tools that could neutralize their portal guns and gadgets. EMP mines to disable any tech they might smuggle in, neural disruptors to incapacitate them before they could even think about fighting back.

My body, though. My body was still too slow. What if I wasn't fast enough? What if they caught me off guard? I clenched my fist, feeling the frustratingly weak response from the muscles. I needed to move faster, think faster. Every variable had to be accounted for.

....

The multiverse was full of hidden treasures, rare elements that could be used to alter biology in ways Earth science could never dream of. Materials that could rewire my DNA, strengthen my bones, and push my muscles beyond their natural limits. I needed to collect these ingredients, but I had to be smart about it. No one could know what I was doing until it was too late. Each one had to be carefully chosen, taken from different dimensions so as not to leave a pattern for the Citadel to trace.

First on the list: Mycelium Synthite from Dimension XR-45, a biological material capable of enhancing neural pathways. It was rare, but I'd already set a course. Second, Orginum Crystals from Dimension P-243, known for their regenerative properties and strength enhancements. They'd provide the base for my new skeletal structure. Lastly, Zenthalium Alloy, a biological-metal found only in the cores of collapsing stars in Dimension Z-674. It would bond with my cells, creating an armor-like structure without sacrificing flexibility or speed.

I tapped my fingers against the console, calculating the time and resources needed. The process would take days, maybe weeks, but once I had all the materials, I could begin reconstructing my body, piece by piece.

And once that was done, no one, not even the smartest Rick, would be able to stop me.

....

Back at the Citadel, the Ricks were growing more agitated. Their searches were turning up nothing, and my false signals had kept them chasing ghosts across the multiverse. Evil Morty, on the other hand, remained calm, watching from the shadows as the Council fumbled over themselves, trying to track me down.

"They don't understand what they're dealing with," Evil Morty muttered to himself, his fingers tapping against his desk.

The reports coming in showed that I had disappeared completely. But he knew better. He knew I was planning something. And when I resurfaced, the Citadel would be caught off guard.

"Keep watching," he ordered one of his subordinates. "Jerry will show himself soon. And when he does... we'll be ready."

Evil Morty had his own plans, but he knew that someone like me, someone who had tasted power and wanted more, could either be a dangerous rival or a useful ally. But only if I could be controlled.

"He's playing a bigger game now," Evil Morty mused. "But so am I."

....

Back in my ship, I grinned to myself as I reviewed the final details of my plan. I could feel the pieces falling into place. The lab would soon be ready. The materials I needed would be gathered, and the Ricks and Mortys I will capture would provide the final push to improve my mind beyond anything even I could fully comprehend.

But I had to be careful. One wrong step, and the Citadel would close in. One oversight, and Rick C-137 or Evil Morty would outplay me.

I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Patience," I whispered to myself, feeling a calm settle over me. "Brick by brick."

The game was only beginning.